


(Don't) Take Me Back Where We Belong

by Salmonellagogo



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Casual Sex, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, F/M, Identity Issues, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmonellagogo/pseuds/Salmonellagogo
Summary: "He remembers the satisfaction of riling Bruce up, to prove that his self control is paper thin when it comes to Dick Grayson. But, he doesn't remember why that is important. Why Dick Grayson held that knowledge to his heart."
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	(Don't) Take Me Back Where We Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Remember this [panel](https://i.postimg.cc/JnwBvkgH/nightwing.jpg)? I've been wanting to write this ever since I saw it. 
> 
> I don't quite know how to tag this. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Someone is following him. 

Most people don't think to look up when they're on the street and Ric plays his part. A shadow flits from one building to another. He keeps his eyes level, tilting his head to grin at a guy he knows from the bar when he walks past a bodega. Anthony nods back at him, completely oblivious, of course, of his shadow. 

He makes one loop around the block and it becomes clear that his shadow doesn't intend to come down and talk to him. Annoying. Though, at least an improvement over his misguided, so called family members whom he barely remembers, who insisted that he used to be something better before, something they used to place on a pedestal.

Ric puts both hand inside his pockets. For a moment he thinks of confronting his tail. He _knows_ who it is, and although his recollection of Batman is spotty at best, he remembers their big fights, the arguments and Batman hitting him. He remembers the satisfaction of riling Bruce up, to prove that his self control is paper thin when it comes to Dick Grayson. But, he doesn't remember why that is important. Why Dick Grayson held that knowledge to his heart. 

In the end, Ric decides to get on with his day. Batman can follow him, and perhaps, this time it will finally stick that Ric doesn't need their help. 

His taxi is a few blocks away, but he's done with driving for now. Ric is heading to the bar--a place that has become familiar to him just in just a few weeks of staying around the neighborhood. 

A lot of faces he knows are already there. Dick gets a few throwaway greetings and a back pat as he takes a seat at the bar. The bartender takes a cursory glance at him and hands him a bottle of cold beer without being prompted. 

It's a slow day for the establishment, not many people in there except for a few regulars. Ric stays for an hour, until his eyes catch a man who sits a few seats away from him, who is looking at Ric like he's something good enough to eat. 

This isn't that kind of bar. Not really. And though Ric's sure this isn't Dick Grayson's first rodeo with a man--with anyone, it kind of is for Ric. He also remembers sex is one Dick Grayson’s preferred method to destress.

He ends up going to the back alley of the bar. The guy--Andy? Arnold?--presses Ric to the dirty bricks and kisses him. He's taller than Ric by a few inches and Ric gains satisfaction from yanking the guy down to be able to reach his mouth. 

"Feel like I've seen you before," the guy says in between fitting his teeth along Ric's jaw. 

Ric's breath hitches, more because the guy's hand has found the button of Ric's jeans than what he's saying. Ric kneads the back of the guy's neck. "Heard that one before," he says. 

The guy chuckles, though the sound fades to the background as his hand finds Ric's belt. 

Ric hasn't forgotten Batman, but he hasn't been able to see the bat shaped shadow either. The rooftops are clear so he tries to get Batman off his mind. 

***

It's a few days before Ric notices that someone is tailing him again. 

He doesn't so much as see Batman as feeling like something's different. A pair of crows disturbed and the prickling sensation behind his neck, like he's being watched. Dick Grayson must have led an interesting life.

Ric sighs. He puts both hand inside the pocket of his hoodie and keeps his head down, making himself smaller. He barely stands out in the midst of the pedestrians going about their business. Nevertheless, Batman would spot him. 

Ric acts like he hasn't noticed. He stops at a corner store to buy a pack of cigarettes. Not for himself. He'll give it to Jacob behind his partner's back the next time he goes to the bar. Favor is a good trade. 

Next, he walks into a bakery, picking up fresh bagels and coffee before circling back a block and gets back to his cab. Ric places his coffee on the car's cup holder and digs into the bagels. 

The car smells a little musty, even with the windows down. Hell, Ric smells like he hasn't taken a shower in _days_. Which, yeah admittedly, he hasn't. 

He doesn't feel like breaking into and squatting in someone's house. Though, that is a poor excuse. His life is a mess and he's sure Dick Grayson would agree, even with the snapshots he sometimes gets, of an apartment with laundries left on the floor, unwashed dishes piling up in the sink, and putrid trash bin that should have been emptied days before, the bastard. 

Maybe he should pay Tina a visit, makes himself available to the amenities in her apartment. If nothing else, Dick Grayson has left him with a good looking outer shell to work with.

Ric swallows the rest of his bagel in one mouthful and drinks his coffee. The decision is made in his mind.

A few hours later, Ric taps his cigarette pack and opens the window of Tina’s apartment, looking out to a gloomy alley with nothing but a few broken street lights to chase away the darkness. He lights a cigarette, leans his elbows on the sill and rests his face in one hand.

He fills his lung with smoke, only to exhales it a second later. Through the haze, before the smoke disperse, he thinks he see a figure moving in the shadows. Ric fixes his eyes to the spot, at the smooth lines of rooftops and telephone cables, high above Tina’s apartment, but there is nothing there.

Ric stays at the window until his cigarette burned down to the filter. 

***

A faint whistle of grappling gun disturbs the night and Ric looks over his shoulder. 

There is no Batman. The night is as still as it can be, in the short window between three in the morning and sunrise, when most of Bludhaven is dead to the world. But that doesn't mean anything. Ric thinks he'd be disappointed if he can spot Batman that easy. 

It's been a few days since the last time he followed Ric. A silent shadow, always watching and never engaging. His presence is a thorn at Ric's senses, no matter how well he pretends that he doesn't care, doesn't even notice. 

Ric has been putting up with this, longer than he ever did with the other members of Batman's little clique. It's vexing and really, crime rate must be at a record low for Batman to have the time to follow him around. 

He walks past a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk, fishes out a dollar bill and drops it inside a paper cup beside the man's head. He huddles his shoulders when the wind picks up, making a turn to another street. His gait is even, casual, even when he makes yet another turn. This time, to an alley that he knows would lead him nowhere. 

It's empty and narrow. Just enough for one person to enter with their shoulders not brushing against grimy bricks on either sides. The other end of the alley is blocked off with tall metal fence. Something that wouldn't have stopped Batman, he's sure. 

Ric leans his back against the fence, feeling metal bars pressing on his spine. Then, to ease an itch, he takes out his pack of cigarette and lights one. 

Grey smoke comes out from his mouth as he exhales and he keeps his eyes at the entrance of the alley. One minute.

"I know you're there," Ric says. "Come down."

His command goes unheard. Ric doesn't expect that it would, but he swallows back the rising irritation nonetheless. 

He flicks the ash from the end of his cigarette, smokes a few more minutes until the ember burns half the cigarette. He never would have compared the man he's seen in the opulent Wayne Manor and the strangeness of the cave underneath it to a skittish cat, but the thought comes to him anyway. Batman blocks the light as his silhouette fills up the opening of the alley, painting long shadows on the bricks and asphalt. 

Ric smirks.

"Hey," he says. 

Predictably, Batman doesn't say anything. Faithful to his brand of choice--big, silent, and even Ric has to admit, _sexy_. 

"I don't appreciate being stalked."

No answer. Batman's eyes are hidden behind black lenses and there is no cue, emotional or otherwise, to be gleaned from the lower half of his visible face. 

Ric rolls his eyes. The frustration feels familiar. Dick Grayson's peeking his head again inside Ric's sieve like memories. He sucks the butt of the cigarette roughly, before flicking it to the ground. He steps on the stub and deliberately exhales a cloud of smoke as he makes his way to Batman. Batman's frown is set deeper. Ric doesn't stop until he's one foot away from the man. 

His heart is doing the weird pitter-patter again. Sense memory. Batman has a few inches on him and Ric has to look up to meet him in the eyes--or lenses, whatever. 

"Look," Ric says. "I don't know what we are. Family, or whatever. I don't need a babysitter." The words have gotten a rise from the people who went after him after he moved out from the Wayne Manor, but Batman is as still as a statue and Ric doesn't understand what his deal is. 

Jesus.

Ric takes yet another step closer, closing in on Batman, breaching the bubble of his personal space. Until, Batman puts his hand on Ric's shoulder, stopping him. The hand is heavy and warm, and Batman smells like leather, and sweat, and the city's night air.

"Dick." The voice is rough, all gravel and Ric has to suppress a shiver despite himself. 

He licks his lower lip. The touch doesn't feel unwelcome and an idea pops into Ric's head. A test, because all this sexual tension can't be one sided. Either Dick Grayson has massive a daddy issue or his dick is reacting to something familiar. 

"Hmmm. Dick's not home." He runs his palm up the ridge of Batman's chest plate, feeling the hard material encased in leather and Kevlar. Batman gasps when Ric reaches the bare skin of his lower face. _Bingo_ . Ric totally has his number. A slow smile pulls on Ric's lips. "But _I_ can be on my knees for you." 

For a split second, Batman's hand on his shoulder tightens to the point of pain. Then, without ceremony he pushes Ric away. Ric stumbles back a few steps. 

Glee bubbles inside Ric's chest. Dick Grayson was fucking his adoptive father. The thought sets Ric's body alight with heat. However, before he can say anything else, Batman has disappeared with a well timed shot of his grapple gun. 

Ric leans his shoulder against the bricks, grinning like a loon. His cock is painfully hard. 

***

Ric fucks a guy against the brick wall of a dingy alley. It's the back of a gay bar he never frequents.

Nate--Neil, Nile?--is a beautiful man. His long, blond hair bounces and catches the light when he moves. It has caught Ric's attention earlier. Though under the dim lighting inside the alley, his attention is on something else. 

Ric runs his hand up Nate's back, feeling the smooth skin, the sinewy muscles. His long hair falls like a cascade of silk down his body. And Ric's so close. He groans when Nate contracts his ass, clenching on Ric's dick. 

"C'mon, big boy." Nate pushes his ass against Ric. 

When Ric comes, he groans and squeezes his eyes shut. He grounds his dick in, head tilted back, unheeding of the other man's pleasure. 

As he crashes back to reality, Ric tries to reach around. His cock falls limply out of Nate's ass, the condom threatening to slid down, shiny with lube and heavy with his spunk. He pushes his face against Nate's nape, nuzzles the damp hair there and works on Nate's dick with clever hand. 

He tries listening to other sound beyond Nate's mewling and the faint music from the bar. But there's nothing. A car honks from the main street. A guy laughs so hard the sound carries. 

Ric bites the back of Nate's neck, tasting hair and sweat, and holds on as the guy trembles and comes. 

***

The sun has been down for hours when Ric finally sheds his clothes and steps out of an opulent shower. The owner of said shower hasn't been home in weeks. It's so easy to break into the brownstone that Ric worries for the old couple who lives there.

He shaves in front the mirror and tries not to look too close into it. The face that looked back at him belongs to another man. 

When he goes to the living room, he doesn't bother putting his t-shirt back on. He is watching the rerun of an old TV show when he hears the click of a window opening. The footsteps that follow are almost silent. 

And Ric knows without having to look, whose footsteps those belong to. He puts the remote aside, picks up the bottle of wine he pillaged from the wine cooler, and drinks straight out of the bottle. 

"You're here," he says as he lowers the bottle. "Good. I was so bored I thought I gotta resort to filling out crossword puzzles." He nudges the crosswords book on the coffee table with his toe.

"Why are you here?" Batman enters the periphery of his vision. A dark shadow that doesn't look entirely out of place among the old world riches of the house.

"Are you going to arrest me?" Ric asks, sipping from the wine bottle. "I plan to pay for the inconvenience incurred." 

"You sent me a postcard."

"Ah, so you did get that." A tiny smirk graces Ric's lips.

He sent a postcard with a short paragraph scrawled on it. It was written in code. Something he remembers even when he doesn't recall his ex-girlfriends names. He had to resort to the outdated way to reach out to Batman. Maybe one of these days, he should buy a cellphone. 

Ric places the bottle on the coffee table and push to his feet. He'd like to imagine Bruce's eyes following him, landing on his naked chest even though it's impossible to tell. Bruce stands his ground as Ric pads closer. His bare toes pressing on soft carpet with each step. 

Ric stops a scant hand's breadth away from Batman and looks up at him. "Did you miss him?" 

"Why do you call me here?" Batman's tone is foreboding. Flat and low. 

"I think you do," Ric says, ignoring Batman's question. The thing he does next is half liquid courage, half being so fucking tired of living under Dick Grayson's shadow that he might as well make use of it. Because Batman wants him. Batman wants Dick Grayson. He kisses Batman's jaw. "This," Ric tells him. "I call you for this." 

Batman is a wall. A rigid set of muscles that gets more tense as the seconds tick by. Both of his fists curl at his sides. 

Ric scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Oh, come on. You stalked me. Watched me fuck. It's too late to tell me you don't want this." 

Batman honest to god growls. "Stop playing games." 

"I'm not." Ric turns and walks to the couch. Then with his front to Batman, he fiddles with the button of his jeans. "You want me." The button pops out and he pulls on the zipper. "Admit it." 

Ric is not wearing anything underneath and his dick juts out as he push his jeans down. It's only half hard but he knows he can get it hard in under a minute, especially with the company. It's so fucked up and he doesn't know what it means that the perfect boy Dick Grayson is fucking his mentor, except that Ric wants it too. So _bad_.

Ric palms his dick, stroking it leisurely. Batman steps forward, then stops 

"Bruce," Ric groans. "B, _please_." Ric takes a hold of his dick, fingers tight around the head. He whines and he can see the exact point Batman breaks. His heart swells. 

It's manipulative call Batman that. But Dick Grayson has the means to wear Batman down just by being him. Jesus Christ. 

He kicks the jeans off. Batman's gloved hands feel rough on his skin, big and warm on his sides, grabbing him with a kind of finality and possessiveness of a man that has been wanting. The kiss is different from what Ric has experienced with other people. It's all consuming and while Ric is leading, Batman is not yielding. 

He yanks at the cowl, pushing it off Batman's face, breaking the kiss to look at the man beneath the mask. Bruce looks tired. His eyes are ringed by dark shadows and his hair matted to his head. The faint lines on his forehead are more pronounced than usual, and there are the beginning of whites on his roots. He smells so familiar and Ric can't get enough. He presses his fingers to Bruce's lips, set in a grim, straight line. 

"B," Ric gasps. "Come on."

"You're not him," Bruce says. 

"I can be."

Bruce grimaces and looks as if for all the world, he'd rather swallow needles, but the way he takes Ric's jaw by one side, and leans down to kiss him again is a kind of surrender. This time, Ric gives in completely. He lets Bruce in, sucking on his slick tongue and enjoying the heat of Bruce's body, the sharp places where his bare skin meets Batman's armor. 

Bruce clearly knows his body. He places a strong thigh in between Ric's, tilts Ric's head back that he's forced to arch his back. The press of his balls against Bruce's thigh punches a moan out of Ric's lips. 

Ric puts his arms around Bruce's shoulders and holds on. His hips move of their own accord. The friction is uncomfortable, but Ric's unable to stop. Pleasure builds despite the pain. 

As Bruce breaks the kiss, Ric whines. "Please. _Daddy_."

At this, Batman shoves him away. He takes two steps back, creating distance between himself and Ric. And his face… Ric wants to laugh. He would, if it isn't so painful, suddenly. The feeling rising unbidden inside his chest. Fucking Dick Grayson. He doesn't know what it is that sets Bruce off. The way called Bruce 'Daddy'? The way he seems like being able to get Bruce going from zero to sixty with just the barest of effort?

He's sure Dick Grayson wouldn't be shoved off like he is trash after kissing Batman. He wouldn't feel like he'd give anything to stand in Dick Grayson's shoes, but he can't. He's not that person anymore. 

Bruce turns away from him. His back a tense line as he rights his cowls. 

"You're a coward," Ric says. "You want me, but you're too afraid to take it."

As they come out, he gets the strange feeling that the words are familiar to his tongue. A deja vu. Like they've been there before, exactly like this.

Bruce doesn't answer him. Then, just like he's never there, he leaves Ric alone. Ric stands in place for the longest, staring at the empty square of the open window pane. 

***

Bruce stops following him after that. Ric gets exactly what he wanted. 

He tries not to think too much about it and just drives his taxi. He doesn't know the name of the man who fucks him that night and he doesn't care. 


End file.
